In the Hands of a 'God'
by havealittlefaithsammy
Summary: In the Hands of a 'God' alternatively known as "Out of my Hands". [[SET BEFORE THE PREMIERE OF SEASON 9 - BRIEF MENTIONS OF CASTIEL AND CHARLIE BRADBURY.]] - Dean takes Sam to the hospital after his collapse and finds that maybe he has an answer to Sam's "So?".


**A/N: ****_THIS WAS SOMETHING I HAD WRITTEN BEFORE THE START OF SEASON 9 AND WROTE DUE TO SOME HEADCANONS AND THE PROMOS OF THE FIRST FEW EPISODES. SO, ENJOY!_**

**In the Hands of a 'God' [Out of my Hands]**

He had carried Sam into that old Chevy '67 Impala. He had carried Sam Winchester all the way to his car and dropped him into the back seat. He carried Sam into that hospital after burning rubber on the blacktop. Dean hadn't wasted a single moment getting his brother to the hospital to get him help. The angels falling, comets to normal civilians, were imprinted into the back of his mind – a haunting, apocalyptic view. Dean was worried. He wasn't just worried over the angels. He was worried over Castiel. He was worried over Sam. After everything he had done to have gained his family, after all the sacrifices, the lies, the plans, the fights, he was going to lose them all. The thought of Sam dying, though, put Dean into overdrive. Two people at once? And younger brothers no less? He wouldn't make it. Dean knew he wouldn't. He'd stick around long enough to try and shut it all down – both Heaven and Hell. He'd tear every angel and demon apart that got in his way. He had a score to settle on both sides and he wasn't going anywhere until they were all dead. And maybe, if luck was on his side, he'd be killed. Then he wouldn't live in suffering. Hell, maybe it'd be nice and brutal like he deserved because there wasn't anything more horrifying than the fact he had realized it wasn't Sam doing the letting down here. But Dean knew his luck. He'd probably suffer until it was his natural time. He'd have to live with that guilt up until he was , he's done worse. He could do it. Not like it was any different than Purgatory or Hell, even.

He stood there in the corridor of the emergency department of the hospital, a blank look on his face as brilliant green eyes watched nurses and doctors whisk his brother away. Dean sucked in a deep breath as he pressed a fist to his mouth, his eyes shutting tightly. Sammy, please. He thought. You can't die, man. You didn't complete the trials you're not supposed to die. I promise I'll make it up to you. When they get you patched up, I uh – I promise we'll work to fix things. I realize I've done a few things to knock you back and, uh, I need to take responsibility for that. Just...you gotta live in order for me to do this one thing for you, Sam. So please. Don't die. I can't take you dying too. Once Dean's eyes had opened he had found himself taking another deep breath. Now it was time to play a game he hated with all of his heart. Waiting.

Seconds and minutes blended together and hours began to blur together. Dean paced a rut into the floors of the waiting room, he was sure of it. His mind wouldn't shut down. Maybe it hadn't helped that he had drank like five cups of coffee during the time he had been waiting for news, but he was absolutely jittery. As he finally took a seat and leaned onto his knees with his elbows, steepling his fingers and leaning on them, he found himself jumping at the noise of his cellphone going off. He scrambled quickly to answer it. Whatever he had been hoping for, he wasn't sure. Maybe he had hoped it was Cas, maybe he was just hoping it was all a nightmare and Sam was alright. He didn't know at this point. His eyes read over the name.

Charlie.

He swallowed. Thankfully it was a text, but that hadn't made it any easier. He pressed the 'view message' button and found himself reading a text from the red-headed woman he knew as a younger sister.

_Dean, what's going on?_

He didn't answer. He couldn't answer right now. In fact, he didn't know how. 'Oh, angels are falling.' Perfect way to answer someone. 'Cas is dead. Sam too, probably. He may as well be.' Now Dean was just thinking bitterly. His fingers clutched the phone as he leaned his forehead onto his clenched hands. He rocked a bit in his seat, taking a deep breath in through his nose. Dean didn't like the feeling of his hands being tied. He had to do something. Something needed to be done about all of this! And he knew who he'd go after first. His phone went off again. This time it was another text.

_Dean, seriously. Sam's not answering his phone. What's going on? Are you two alright?_

_Dean. For serious._

_Look here, Winchester, I swear to God if you don't answer I will come and find you myself._

Then before he knew it she was calling his cellphone and Dean couldn't do it. The more Charlie sought out an answer the more Dean began to worry. How was he going to answer her? Would she really go through and find him? The voice-mail tone went off three times after four calls. The Winchester brushed at his bottom lip as he debated opening them. When he did, he should've known she'd track him.

"_Dean. I will track your coordinates. Are you and Sam alright?_" Next message.

_"Winchester! Answer your goddamn phone!" Next._

_"Dean. Why are you at a hospital? You're scaring me. If you don't answer me within a day I'm going to come up there._"

Dean clenched his fist around the phone as he hung up.

"S'better if you don't know." Dean said to himself. "Stay where you're at. Please." He glanced up as the door that led through the emergency apartment opened. A woman with graying brunette hair appeared in the doorway, holding a clipboard as she examined the information that Dean had scribbled out quickly.

"Mister… Ah, Mister-?" Dean rose to his feet and walked over to the doctor. He hadn't even heard the last name he had been going by because of how much he was zoning out at this point – but his subconscious had caught it. The nurse's face wasn't exactly grim. She seemed neutral in fact. Dean felt a faint glimmer of hope in that fact. Maybe his brother was alright. Sammy was going to be ok. "Your brother is in stable condition. But, we've got some news for you. His doctor will talk to you about it." Any hopes Dean had had were shot down in that moment. His stomach churned further and his heart dropped farther into his stomach. "Is he...okay?" Dean asked, voice rough. The nurse's facial expression changed then and Dean was sure he was about to dry heave. Swallowing the lump in his throat he followed her through the department and down another hallway into one of the hospital rooms.

When he entered Sam's room his breath caught. He looked to his brother mournfully before his gaze went to the other side of the room. Sam was hooked up to IV's. He had a blood pressure cuff on, and worst yet?Sam, out of all the times he had been injured on hunts, was on oxygen for the first time. And that didn't say anything good about his condition. Dean knew this. He was always the one on oxygen, always the one taking the damage for Sam and just this one time he couldn't take the damage – and he wished so desperately that he could've."He'll be in soon." The nurse said as she excused herself to leave Dean alone.

Dean wiped a hand over his face. Taking another deep breath he walked over to his brother's unconscious body and took a seat beside him. He assumed his normal position of leaning onto his knees. His green eyes remained trained on his brother as he laid there with a steady, slow heartbeat.

"...'M so sorry, Sammy." Dean said, blinking. "I – you never let me down, Sam. I, uh. I'm the one who did the lettin' down here. You needed me. I shut that door by saying a few things that put you back on your heels. So, uh, I guess I'd understand if you're angry at me. Hell, you have every right to be. But ya gotta fight for me, man. I need you to be okay. I need you to live. I need you, Sam." Dean paused then, rubbing at the back of his neck and soon brushing at the edge of his jaw. "I'm...just sorry." He averted his gaze, unable to speak any further. Down beside the chair he found a plastic bag full of Sam's things and lifted it up into his lap, opening it. Reaching in for Sam's jeans he lifted the waist and pockets out of the bag and removed Sam's wallet and phone. As he did so he watched a few bloody tissues and a rag fall out of the pants and down into the bag. He felt a bile rising in his throat as he took the chance to toss the bag to the side again. Looking at Sam's phone he found similar messages from Charlie.

_Sam. What's going on? I know those aren't comets. I wanna hear it from you._

_Sam, please tell me you're alright._

_I hope this isn't because of the trials._

_SAM! Answer me_!

Dean slipped Sam's phone into his back pocket then. The thought of reading anymore messages from Charlie at this moment were making him painfully sick. Dean's hands were now clutched around Sam's wallet, but he hadn't had time to open it. The doctor stepped in. Setting it down on the plastic bag he rose to his feet to greet the doctor who shook his hand."How's it look?" Dean asked, the doctor frowning. "Your brother's condition," The doctor started as he flipped on the light to the x-ray viewing box. He placed in a few of the pictures and looked over to Dean. He explained the situation. The further he continued it finally came down to one statement. One that outraged Dean beyond words for a few moments.

"Your brother's life, I'm afraid, is now in the hands of God." Dean paused. In the hands of God. The hands of a God that had long bailed out for all he had cared. There wasn't a God around anymore. He had abandoned everything and everyone and they were all suffering for the decision. His jaw flexed and he tried to keep his temper, but the words were spewing from his mouth before he could control them."You tryin' to tell me my brother's life is in the hands of God!?" Dean said, raising his voice as he gestured toward his unconscious brother. The doctor only gave him a sympathetic expression."I'm sorry, sir. I wish him all of the luck and bless the both of you." With that the doctor was out of the room, leaving Dean to deal with that punch to the gut. So everything was out of his hands here? He was completely defenseless against what could happen to his brother?

And he could do nothing about it again?

Great.

"What the hell else can go wrong?" He growled out, sitting down again and running both hands through his hair. Once he returned back into a slumping position his eyes down cast to the wallet again. He picked up Sam's wallet again. He had spent his last dollar that he carried on him– since he hadn't a need to carry a lot while having been out with Sam to do the trials – on his last coffee. He doubted Sam was carrying money but it wouldn't hurt to try. Out of curiosity, Dean opened it. Just as always it was pretty bare. A twenty dollar bill and a few ones was all that occupied for there was something shoved in between the 's fingers dipped down to wrap around the string and he pulled it up. At first all it looked like was black string – something that didn't make sense for Sam to have. At least, until the familiar bronze showed itself and was before Dean's face. He sucked in a loud breath. It felt as if someone had punched him in his gut. With a knife. And twisted went in for money and he came out with this.

"Sammy, no." Dean breathed, "No, no, Sammy why'd you -" He paused for a moment before he shoved it back into Sam's wallet where it had originally been and then into his back pocket along with Sam's phone. Dean couldn't look at it anymore. He leaned onto his knees again, his hands clasped around one another and pressed against his mouth with how he leaned against them. He only quietly shook his head as his eyes closed. His face expressed extreme amounts of pain. The thought that Sam had been going around with that on him all these years after he had gotten right of it - .. it actually hurt. It hurt him because physical comprehension and worse yet it scared him. Sam had been chasing after him this whole time and in his own way rather than saying it. Sam had been looking for guidance, reassurance – needing to know that he'd always be Dean's baby brother and somehow Dean had managed to solidify that one little thing in Sam's mind he had never wanted Sam to ever think. He never wanted Sam to hate himself like he hated himself. He had never wanted this life for Sam, yet Sam had it. And now here Dean sat, knowing just well what Sam wanted out of all of this. Sam wanted to die just as much as Dean had for so long. All it took was a simple little word to break that news to Dean.

"_So_?"

"So, I failed my little brother."


End file.
